Part of You
by YumKiwiDelicious
Summary: "I need Steve," Bucky said finally, eyes far off as he thought about the little kid from Brooklyn. Tony looked up from his work, squinting behind his frames. Bucky stared back unabashedly. "I need Steve," he repeated, "More than I need an arm. I don't even want an arm if it means Steve could get hurt." Post CAWS. Steve/Bucky established, Bucky/Tony Stark friendship


Hydra had come back and they were winning. That was the premise of the nightmare James Buchanan Barnes found himself fighting through tonight. It was torture watching them falling from the skies, effortlessly gunning down civilians and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents alike. It had been painful enough watching Natasha have her neck snapped by one of the men responsible for training her, but now Bucky found himself in an all-out panic, surrounded by the enemy and completely unable to spot Steve anywhere.

"No! Never again!" he kept screaming as he fought to locate his friend. "Steve!"

"Bucky?"

They were closing in. He could feel his heart start to constrict, sweat pooling beneath his neck line as the masked faces closed in on him. He was screaming.

"Bucky!"

They were taking Steve! He couldn't stand the thought. He would rather suffer another century under Soviet control then let them have Steve. An arm came round his chest from behind. Steve was yelling his name, but he couldn't spot him, his eyes squeezed shut trying to hold off panic. He reached up and grabbed the wrist of the arm with his metal hand. He squeezed.

* * *

Steve was used to being kicked in sleep by Bucky. Even before the war when they had huddled for warmth in their dingy little apartment, James had been a restless sleeper, constantly bumping his knees and elbows into his tiny roommate (though never hogging the blankets from the man that needed them most). Now in 2014 he was used to the kicking for another reason.

He knew Bucky was still haunted from his time in Soviet control, the memories flooding him to the point of exhaustion as the months went by. He had slowly been adjusting to not being put into cryo sleep after every mission, but while he had physically been able to handle the gradual change, it was taking a toll on his mind. He couldn't decipher the memories that were truly his from those that belonged to the Winter Soldier. He woke in tears, fearing he had viciously ended lives while being completely aware and remorseless of his actions. It was torture just to watch him.

Tonight was no different as Captain Rogers was woken by the terrified panting and angry grunts of his bed mate. Turning over Steve saw that whatever nightmare Bucky was having, it was far worse than any he'd had recently. His entire body was seized by it, thrashing relentlessly as he choked out pitiful cries of anguish. It broke the Avenger's heart.

"Steve!"

Bucky's shout drew Steve from his tortured musings and he eased himself across the mattress to lean over his friend. "Bucky? Bucky, I'm here. Can you hear me? Bucky?" Still he thrashed, turning onto his side, the whole bed vibrating with his fear as he continued to moan and flinch as if in battle. Steve slid a hand gently across the juncture between his neck and his metal arm. "Bucky, it isn't real! You're safe!"

He was starting to worry now because it seriously looked as if his dark haired companion was seizing. He considered briefly calling down to Stark or Banner for help, but decided that would be the last thing Sgt. Barnes would want to wake up to; two extremely intelligent men poking and prodding him as he lay half naked in a pool of his own sweat. Instead Steve hoisted the former Winter Soldier into his lap, arm going across his chest to simultaneously support and shake him.

"Bucky! Bucky, wake up!"

He thought he had finally reached his childhood friend when he reached up and grasped his wrist, but the relief was quickly driven off as Bucky let out an ungodly battle cry and clenched the metal hand into a fist. Steve couldn't hold in the howl of pain as the bones were crushed. And God knows he tried.

* * *

Bucky came to at his friend's anguished cry, sucking in a gargantuan breath that filled his lungs before being harshly exhaled. His vision was trembling, everything slipping in and out of focus in the dark room as he blinked rapidly. Fighting reflexes gone, he released his grip on Steve's arm mere moments before realizing what he had done. A dread like he hadn't known since the hellicarrier pooled in his stomach.

"Jesus Christ! Steve-!"

"What the hell is going on!?"

Natasha and Clint dashed into the bedroom, gun and arrow drawn and ready to fire at whatever had caused their companions to scream like that. Bucky raised his hands, chewing his lip near to ruin as Steve leaned back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut in pain and wrist cradled to his chest. Stark and Banner shuffled in next, both clearly having been woken and shaken by all the commotion. Tony flicked on the lights

"What happened?"

"I-I didn't mean to," Bucky tried to stammer, nerves from the nightmare, Steve being injured, and having two weapons trained on him making him tongue tied as Bruce moved over to assess Steve. "It was an accident."

There was a pregnant pause as Steve yelped in pain, Bruce apologizing lowly as he slowly turned the wrist over with feather light touches. He turned to look at his team mates, brow heavy with concern and mouth twisted. "It looks like it's totally shattered."

Tony whistled lowly, casting Bucky an impressed if not calculating look. Clint shifted, drawing his arrow back further as Natasha glared. Bucky could feel his heart drop into his stomach, moving as if to pull Steve into an apologetic hug.

"Get any closer and I'll put one through _your_ shoulder," the red head warned, a hint of sarcasm falling into her tone as Bucky sat forward again. His shoulders were tense with grief as well as anger.

"Nat," Steve finally spoke up, voice thick as Bruce helped him to his feet, "Don't."

"We gotta get this set as best we can as soon as we can," Bruce stated knowingly, supporting Steve by the elbow as he moved towards the door, "If we don't it could heal wrong and then we'll have to re-break it."

Bucky could have been sick recalling how the Super Soldier Serum had given Steve a phenomenal healing speed. His bones would stitch themselves back together in minutes regardless if they were in the right place or not. He wanted to get up and follow, but one look from Natasha left him seated at the edge of the bed, glaring as the former KGB agent flounced out of the room followed closely by a yawning Clint. Black Widow had yet to accept the fact that the assassin who had trained her for the Russians was now living in Stark Tower and shacking up with Captain America. She also hadn't forgiven Bucky for shooting her.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Tony said offhandedly, now the only other left in the room. Bucky's jaw clenched and his eye fell to his hands. Fisted on his knees they looked so much like the weapons he had been armed with for years and suddenly he could hardly stand the sight of them. "You know that arm of yours must be really something," Tony went on, not catching the mood of the room as he idled up to the bed. "It'd have to be extremely strong to break Rogers' bones. The serum made them stronger than the average human's so-"

"I want you to take it off," Bucky bit out suddenly, not lifting his eyes to catch Stark's bewildered look.

"Sorry, what?"

"The arm," he clarified, flexing the metallic fingers to draw attention, "I want you to take it off." Stark looked for all the world as if Bucky had just asked for a kiss; eyes wide and lips drawn together in a skeptical frown. He asked if the man meant to get a replacement. "No. I just…"

Tony frowned further, watching the newest addition to his large home struggle for words as his shoulders shook with suppressed emotion. "Alright," he agreed, earning a shocked but all together relieved look from the 1940's soldier. "Let's get down to the lab."

The two men traveled through the darkened tower in silence. It was near around 3 in the morning. Bucky felt a twist of guilt in his stomach as they stepped into the elevator that would take them down to Tony's work station.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?" the robot's voice came through an intercom.

"Did Pepper go back to sleep?"

"Ms. Potts is sleeping soundly, sir." The doors hissed open to reveal Tony's already fully lit lab and the billionaire nodded in satisfaction.

"Good. JARVIS, be a help pull up everything you can find on mechanical prosthetics and the like. And it wouldn't hurt if it was from Russian sources."

"Right away, sir."

"Sorry for all the trouble," Bucky murmured nearly under his breath, following Tony through his vast collection of experiments and computers, having long since gotten used to the technology of this century. Stark waved him off, stopping to grab various tools as he made his way to a main desk towards the middle of the room. Pulling up a spare working stool, he motioned Bucky to sit and began clicking away at the screen.

"The good thing about having Pepper with me for so long," he said leisurely, flicking past various articles on robotic limbs and throwing the ones he was interested in onto another screen, "Is that she's so used to being woken up by insanity in the middle of the night that she can fall right back to sleep."

Bucky nodded, setting his arm down on the table near Tony. Even though the rest of the team had been quick to fill him in on technology and pop culture, he still wasn't sure how the dames in this time worked. He was so used to giggling little things or war nurses. The strongest woman he had known from his time was Peggy, and even she ran into some gender barriers here and there. In this time women like Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanov seemed to be running the show as far as their men were concerned.

The young-old man offered another apology anyway that Tony assured he'd pass on to Pepper before the room lapsed into silence. Bucky sat still and quiet thinking about where Steve was and how he was doing. He wondered if Bruce had been able to rearrange the bones before it was too late and how mad his friend would be at him when all was said and done. His gut twisted thinking of Steve upset with him. It was almost as bad as thinking of Steve hurt by his hand.

His hand.

The former Winter Soldier watched his metal fingers tap across Tony's working station, knowing that he alone was causing the movement but not being able to feel the cool surface beneath his touch. Before he had been shipped off he had heard of dozens of soldiers coming back missing arms or legs and people said they suffered from 'phantom limb syndrome'. They said it was like still being able to feel your toes wiggling or still flinching when you should've run your hand right into a door knob. You felt it but it wasn't there.

Bucky had to figure his situation was similar if not worse.

The limb was there but he couldn't feel it.

He couldn't feel it when Clint bumped his knuckles against his shoulder good naturedly after a sparring match or when Ms. Potts touched his elbow lightly asking if he wanted anything to eat. He couldn't feel it when Steve leaned against him as they watched a movie or when he wrapped his arms around him while they slept. He couldn't feel it when he was crushing his best friend's wrist between his fingers.

Bucky's eyes fell to his lap, suddenly embarrassingly misty as he sniffed. Tony glanced over from the screen, taking in the man's haunted gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly. Scooting over in his chair with a tiny screw driver looking tool, he gestured for Bucky's metal arm which he offered without complaint. Taking another glance at the screen, Stark began prodding around near the wrist area; glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he worked.

"You know," he began conversationally, sitting back slightly as he reached for another tool, "I know what it's like to having something that's a part of you hurt someone you love."

Bucky bristled, surprised it would be Tony of all people that would start this conversation with him, but also insulted to think that anything that could hurt Steve could ever be a part of him. "It's not-"

"Look without this thing, you're half a man," Stark interrupted bluntly, nodding in satisfaction as the seams of Bucky's arms suddenly slipped apart slightly, revealing the wiring and remaining flesh stump within. James could have puked. He was usually asleep during these sort of things with the Soviets. "At least in your time."

"A man that lost his arm in battle was no less of a man," he argued, trying to muscle through the unpleasantness of seeing his blood and other unidentifiable fluids pumped through tubes beneath the plates that made up his arm. He didn't want Stark to know he had never seen this before. "He was a hero."

"Well that's nice," Tony said flippantly, the sarcasm evident as he looked at the screen again, "But people calling you a hero doesn't mean you get your leg back after a Nazi's blown it off does it?" Here he looked Bucky directly in the eye, face as innocent as ever as the man ground his teeth.

"This thing-"

"Would've been a dream come true to an amputee back in your day," Stark interrupted again, not caring enough for the severity of the situation to pass up an opportunity to poke fun at Bucky's biological age. "Plus it's a part of you." He poked Bucky's sweatpants clad knee for emphasis.

"Like the arc reactor was a part of you?" Bucky scowled in return.

Steve had done his best to fill him in on the history of everyone in their team and while all the stories had been interesting (especially the existence of aliens like Thor who he had yet to meet), Bucky had taken a particular interest in Tony's. He had known the man's father of course. Respected him. Considered him a friend. Been devastated when he woke from the dream/memory of killing Howard and his wife. He had been a bit remised to find that Tony did not resemble his father in many ways but still he respected the man. Considered him a friend. Would be devastated if anything happened to him. However, he did not appreciate his prying at this moment when he needed to be groveling to Steve, and he especially was not liking that he couldn't even storm out angrily since he had no idea how to put his arm back right and didn't know what could happen if he didn't.

Stark shrugged thoughtfully at the comeback, leaning back slightly in his chair. "The arc reactor _was_ a part of me," he said honestly, crossing his arms over his now non-glowing chest, "But I think it ran me more than I ran it towards the end, and I didn't need it anymore." Bucky's unmoved scowl spoke to his lack of understanding and Tony rolled his eyes, moving back in to continue fiddling with the arm. "My reactor was part of me because I had no choice but for it to be. Just like how the Extremis is part of Pepper because she doesn't have a choice." There was a whirring sound from within the arm and Bucky paled. "But once I find a cure I can fix her. There had always been a cure for me and so I fixed it."

Bucky still squinted at the rugged looking man, wishing he spoke as plainly as Howard had before a bullet drove his car off the road. Tony looked like he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes again.

"There's no cure for needing an arm, Barnes."

Bucky went quite, watching Stark work as he contemplated his need of an arm. When he had first woken up after falling from the train, they had yet to fit him with the arm and so he had howled in agony when he realized it was gone. He'd screamed of being a cripple and disfigured and wondered why God could not have just let him hit his head rather than his elbow on the way down into the river. When he'd woken the second time he had no memories of life with a flesh left arm and so had gone on thinking it had never been. Now he was aware of both trains of thought and contemplated his need of an arm.

The lab was quite aside from Tony's fiddling for some time. The billionaire asked JARVIS for an update on Captain Rogers, perhaps hoping to ease his semi-patient's worried frown.

"Doctor Banner had to re-break the bones in his wrist, sir," JARVIS informed making Bucky shake with shame, "They are set not and the Captain should be in recovery." Tony said this was good, not looking up at Bucky.

They were quiet again.

"I need Steve," Bucky said finally, eyes far off as he thought about the little kid from Brooklyn. Tony looked up from his work, squinting behind his frames. Bucky stared back unabashedly. "I need Steve," he repeated, "More than I need an arm. I don't even want an arm if it means Steve could get hurt."

Stark tilted his head as if seeing the newest Avenger for the first time. Bucky could guess what he was thinking. It hadn't been right in the 40's; two men couldn't be together like a man and a woman could and certainly not two soldiers. There were of course little hints all throughout the museum exhibit for Captain American that he and James Barnes had been more than friends, but throwing words like gay around weren't as dangerous as it had been then. They didn't have to be afraid anymore. "You two really are a pair, huh?"

"'Til the end of the line," Bucky assured, settling in more resolutely, prepared to lose his arm to keep Steve. Tony nodded again, clearing his throat as he leaned in to flick something near the inner wrist. The pieces of the arm snapped back together, but stayed firmly attached to Bucky. He frowned.

"I'm not gonna take your arm, Barnes," Stark informed casually, turning back to his station and beginning to shut down the various programs. Bucky stood angrily.

"You said-!"

"_You_ said," Stark spoke over him, causing Bucky to wonder if Maria Stark had died before teaching her son manners, "That you didn't want an arm if Rogers could get hurt. You can't hurt him with this." He gestured toward the metal appendage, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Bucky was skeptical until Stark waved an arm towards his metal working table, telling him to punch it. James wondered if the play boy had gone crazy. "Go on, hard as you can, you can't hurt it."

Deciding to just humor the man, Bucky curled his metal fist back and brought it down on the table, bringing forth all the anger, fear, and sadness he usually threw into a punch along with his devastation at having hurt his partner. When he pulled back, there was a sizable dent in the corner of the table, deep and wide enough to serve as a cup holder. He looked up at Stark.

"If you'd done that an hour ago this whole station would be flat on the ground," he informed, picking his glasses off his face and pointing at the piece of Soviet equipment. "That arm is stronger than the average human now, but so is Capsicle. You couldn't break his bones even if you wanted to."

Bucky sat back down looking in wonder at his still curled fist. Tony had left him his arm and an impressive amount of strength, but not enough to be able to seriously harm a super soldier. Turning glassy eyes up to Stark, he tried to find words for an adequate thank you, but the lift door slid open before they came.

"Your ears must've been burning," Tony teased as Steve marched straight up to Bucky and pulled him into his arms. Bucky hugged him back fiercely, easing up on his left arm out of habit, still not believing it couldn't hurt Steve.

"Do _not_ blame yourself for this, Bucky," Steve ordered, pulling away to look his army buddy in the eye, "It wasn't your fault."

"It was though," Bucky stated miserably, blue eyes straining to stay dry as he cast an apologetic look at the captain, "And it could've been so much worse-"

"It wasn't," Steve assured, looking truly concerned as he brushed his hand through Bucky's hair knowing it calmed him. Usually they weren't so hands on in front of others, but Steve could see the self-destructiveness growing in his lover's eyes. "It wasn't worse."

"And it won't ever be," Stark added in, making both men blush though they made no move to separate. Steve had raised his hands to cup Bucky's face, while Bucky had his arms slung around Steve's waist. They were pulled right up to each other, Steve resting between Bucky's knees where he sat on the stool. "Not with that."

Steve followed Tony's point to Bucky's arm and frowned, his mind temporarily going through all the weird, experimental things Stark could have done to it before realizing Bucky was actually _smiling_ at the billionaire. It was no secret Bucky had had trouble adjusting to this new life and making friends was not one of his strong points. And even if it had been, Tony Stark was not the easiest person to get along/ put up with unless you were Pepper Potts. Clearly whatever had happened to the arm was more than okay with Buck and that was all Steve cared about. He thumbed across the other man's jaw, drawing his attention.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked lightly, not wanting to step on the proud man's toes. "No more nightmares?"

Bucky shook his head, taking a moment to free up his right arm and snag Steve's repaired wrist. His kissed it lightly, still blushing a bit behind the ears knowing Tony was watching. "Not tonight," he breathed into the skin, "Not with you here."

Steve smiled. a genuine, room brightening smile as he drew his hands away from Bucky, taking note of the shiny look in the man's eyes. He joked, "You're not turning into some sort of crying fairy on me now are you, Barnes?"

Bucky snorted, sentimentality not gone but brushed aside for humor as his pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose. "You are such a punk."

"Hey, I'll stop saying it when you stop laughing," Steve teased, letting his hand fall down to rest on the other man's knee, stroking lightly.

"I'm not laughing," Buck sighed into his hand before turning his face back up. He smiled at his partner and then turned his head to Tony who was fiddling with his cell phone, possibly saving some notes on Bucky's arm. "Thanks again for everything, Stark."

"Any time," Tony said casually, dismissing them both with a wave of the hand and a call for JARVIS. If he guessed Bucky was thanking him for more than the arm, he didn't let on. Bucky let Steve lead him out of the lab and back up to their room. There were no more nightmares that night.


End file.
